Days of Plenty
by 1917farmgirl
Summary: Mac Taylor, seen through the lens of my music collection. In response to Madison Bellows "Shuffle" challenge. And because Smuffly told me to do it.


**DAYS OF PLENTY**

**Author's Note:**

Smuffly, this is all your fault.

See, the tale goes like this. I see Smuffly has a new fic up and go to read it, send her a review, we get talking. She says it was for a fic challenge and explains how to do it. Then she says, "You should try it. You could do Mac."

Riiiiight.

Three hours of telling myself I won't do it and thirty-five minutes of writing later, here this is.

Anyway, this is in response to Madison Bellows "Shuffle" challenge, even though I didn't know it existed until a few hours ago. Also, I'm a music teacher. My computer is full of WEIRD stuff: Disney and Musicals and symphonies. I was fully prepared to have to write Mac lip sinking to "The Little Mermaid", but apparently my media player was in a somber mood tonight with what it hit. I only fudged in the area of skipping songs that were only 30 seconds long, mostly demo music for school, and then cleaned up punctuation and spelling after the challenge was done.

And for those of you hating me for not updating "Leftovers," I'm working on it. My muse and I are just having a small spat at the moment. Don't worry, I will win eventually.

**00000**

"**I Will Not Say Goodbye" – Danny Gokey**

The box was too small.

That was the first thought that went through Mac's head. The only thought, really.

How could one box contain a whole life?

_You made the decision to do this_, he reminded himself.

And he had.

Somehow, he had to. If he was going to get up and face life each day – _alone_ – he had to do this.

At least for a little while.

Otherwise, he would break.

And so, one by one, he picked up her things, those little items she'd touched each day, and put them away in the box.

**00000**

"**The Creation of Man" – The Scarlet Pimpernel**

"No."

"But Mac, you agreed to this!"

"No! I did _NOT _agree to _this_! I agreed to attend Adam's stupid themed party. _THIS_ was not part of the deal!"

"Mac, it's just a costume. It's not going to bite."

He eyed her as if she had lost her mind.

"Mac, we are all going as a character! You should see Sheldon! He went all out…"

"Stella, I will do many, many things for my team, but I WILL NOT DO THIS."

She threw the costume down on his couch and gave him an unhappy glare.

"Fine. Be the party pooper. And while you're at it, why don't you just write a note to explain to Adam and I'll take it."

With a moan, Mac raked his hands down his face and then picked up the abhorrent outfit.

"You owe me big time," he muttered. "And you are never drawing my name out without me being here again."

"Well, look on the bright side, Mac," Stella said as he started from the room to change. "The real Klinger had to wear a dress for nine years… You only have one night."

**00000**

"**Not Alone" – Darren Criss**

_From the kitchen, Mac watched the scene in the living room with fond amusement. Claire sat on the floor, surrounded by Addie and the twins, trying to explain the ins and outs of long division. The conversation was quite comical, as the twins kept insisting that there was no point in learning something so silly, and Addie kept trying to help, claiming she'd "mastered" the technique since she was now in 5__th__ grade._

_Smiling, Mac leaned against the table and just stared. Stared at the way the evening sunlight gleamed off her hair. The way the twins had her eyes, the way she stuck her tongue out between her teeth in frustration._

_His Claire. The love of his life. The mother of his children._

With a bolt, Mac jerked awake.

And he was all alone in his bed, in the dark, with the what-ifs sinking through the gloom around him to shatter on the floor.

**00000**

"**Arise and Shine Forth" – Michael McLean**

The crisp, winter air surrounded him as he walked down the busy New York Streets. Christmas was only a week away and as the snow crunched under his shoes and the bright lights hung in the air around him, Mac found himself relaxing. Even with the constant rush of the city around him, a sense of peace filled the night.

A group of kids barreled past him, laughing and shouting.

Mac smiled.

He wandered on, soaking up the night. Down the sidewalk, across the street, through the park…

Suddenly, a hauntingly beautiful sound pierced the night. It stopped him in his tracks.

Church bells, ringing out through the snow, proclaiming their miracle to the world.

_When was the last time he'd been_? he suddenly found himself wondering.

Not completely sure why he was going, he found his feet bearing him down the street, up the steps, into the dim, holy room.

A place to pause, just for one night.

**00000**

"**Weeping" – Josh Groban**

It was the quietest of sounds that in the end drew Mac's attention. The soft sound of tears falling despite their owner's attempts to hold them back.

"Adam?" Mac said, pushing open the locker room door. He was reluctant to intrude, but more reluctant to leave the young man alone at such a time.

"Oh, hey, boss," Adam said quickly, looking up with a flush of embarrassment, wiping self-consciously at his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," the tech cried. "I'm good."

Insight hit Mac, in the form of the file he'd just finished reading. A file for the monster they'd just put away where he could never hurt another child again.

"They get to all of us, Adam, you know. The cases."

The young man froze, his back to Mac, shoulders stiffening.

"It's okay to feel. To cry even. It's what keeps us human among all the death and horror we see every day."

Mac stood, clapping a hand on his young friend's shoulder. "Take a little longer. The tests I needed can wait."

**00000**

**Firefly Score: "Tears/River's Eyes" **

From his office, Mac watched them. Danny placed his hand gently on Lindsay's round stomach, grinning from ear to ear after a moment as he pulled away, pure joy on his face. Lindsay nodded, also beaming.

In privacy, Mac smiled proudly, and yet, strangely, there was the pricking of tears in his eyes as well.

Life was good.

**00000**

"**Sandy" – Annie Soundtrack**

The sound coming from the back of the alley made Mac freeze. Carefully, he drew his gun and crept noiselessly toward it.

"NYPD!" he yelled as he jerked round the corner, gun first.

The small, black ball of fleas routing around in the trash was singularly unimpressed.

"Oh," he muttered, putting his gun away and glad no one was there to see that. "Hey, there, boy," he said, crouching down and wiggling his fingers. "What are you doing here?"

The dog padded over eagerly, happy to have someone paying attention. Smiling slightly, Mac scratched it just behind the ears.

"You know you're gonna have to take it home now," Flack's smug voice suddenly sounded from behind him, making Mac jump in surprise. "You've touched it and the mother won't take it back…"

**00000**

"**Ride Forever"** **- Due South Soundtrack**

With a growl, Mac slammed the phone down on its cradle, giving it a death glare. Then he stepped back from his desk, turning to gaze out the window at the city.

Inside, he was boiling mad.

And tired. Very tired.

Maybe…maybe he was getting too old for this job. His values of honesty, integrity, courage…they were becoming anachronisms in a fast passed, every-man-for-himself world. Maybe he was just an old captain going down with a sinking ship.

Was it time to stop trying? To stop fighting the politics and throw in the towel.

Maybe, Mac Taylor wasn't needed anymore…

**00000**

"**Grandma's Feather Bed" – John Denver**

Squinting, Mac glared at the worn piece of paper again. There had to be something he was missing. He'd tried several different ways already, but something was still missing.

Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, stepping back from the counter.

How could it be this hard?

It was just a simple process – combine the right materials in the correct order and the desired effect was achieved.

And yet none of his attempts were right!

"Granny, you stubborn woman you, why couldn't you ever write anything down?" he sighed as he dumped the latest cake attempt in the garbage again.

Third time's the charm, right?

**00000**

"**No Air" – Glee cover**

Dear Claire,

It's been four years this week. Sometimes, it seems like only a day has passed, and then at the same time it's been an eternity.

I miss you. More than words on a paper can say.

But, I'm trying. Trying to do what I know you would like me to – keep living.

I took my ring off today. It was the second hardest thing I've ever done, the first being losing you. I hope you can forgive me, but, I guess it's something I need to do.

But, just because it's not on my finger anymore doesn't mean you aren't still in my heart.

And you always will be.

Love,

Mac


End file.
